


Always Comes Back To Us

by LeeBarnes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Beach Holidays, Beach House, Childhood Friends, Coma, Domestic Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Flashback, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Head Injury, Holidays, M/M, Major Character Injury, Oblivious Harry, Pining, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, medically induced coma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 09:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4701089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeBarnes/pseuds/LeeBarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sardinia.”</p>
<p>“What, like the fish?”</p>
<p>Louis freezes with only half of his arse on the stool, gaze drifting to Niall ever so slowly, lips parting on a sigh. “Like the Italian island, Niall.”</p>
<p>“Right, yeah, I knew that." Niall mutters, cheeks red with embarrassment, gaze shifting from one point to another. Harry slips him a chocolate chips cookie for comfort. "What about Sardinia, then?" </p>
<p>"It's the chosen destination, for Li's stag do."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Comes Back To Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crimsontheory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsontheory/gifts).



> Hiiiii!!
> 
> Let's start this author notes with a thanks to crimsontheory for the awesome prompt, I had a lot of fun cooking this one up and I hope you'll enjoy it. I have so many more ideas for it, and what could happen after the ending, if you're interested in a follow-up, feel free to hit me up ahah.
> 
> Part of the story is set in the fictional town of Santoporto in Sardinia. I know basically nothing about Sardinia, only what I found on Google. But look at the photos on Google Image and tell me you wouldn't like to spend your stag/hen do there! 
> 
> Before I leave you all to read this amazing piece of work (...) I have to warn you about a scene that could be a trigger so... SPOILER ALERT!  
> Harry's in a medically induced coma at some point towards the end of the story, he's just about to wake up so he's aware of his surrounding but can't react to any of it. Nothing bad happens to him when he's in that state but if that's a trigger to you, please don't read it. Something important happens in that scene but you don't really need to read it to understand what it is (and I'll put it in the end notes if ever). 
> 
> And now onto the story.

“You’ve got to have a stag party, right?”

Harry slides into his friends’ booth just as the words leave Louis’ mouth, a smirk tugging at the right corner of his lips as Liam just stares at him. He catches Niall’s confused glance and answers it with a shrug. Contrary to what most people seem to think, Louis and he are not connected telepathically and he doesn’t always know what his best friend is on about. He reaches for the half-eaten apple and cranberry muffin in front of Louis, gets his hand smacked as he cuts a piece of it. He looks up through his eyelashes, bottom lip quivering in a pout. Louis isn’t as immune to his pouting as he claims to be, Harry knows it and he’s not ashamed to use it to his advantage sometimes. Louis does it too, plays on Harry’s weaknesses to get his way, more often than not. And it might not be very healthy but it works for them. Louis sighs loudly and pushes the plate towards Harry, who thinks him with an obnoxious kiss on the cheek and a happy smile.

“I suppose so, yeah?” Liam answers warily, cup of coffee hovering over his lips as if he’s afraid to take a sip while waiting for Louis’ explanation. He probably is. And he’s most probably right to be. “Andy’s supposed to take care of that, though, as he’s my best man and all that.”

Louis scoffs into his tea, as he always does when reminded Liam’s childhood best friend is taking on the best man’s role. He clearly isn’t over the fact Liam didn’t even consider asking him yet. “Forget Andy, he’ll just take us to that shit club he always goes to.” He picks crumbs off the plate and pops them into his mouth, his Adam apple bobbing as he swallows, casual as ever. All the attention’s on him and he’s basking in it. “We’ll do it the Tommo way.”

“Last time we did anything the Tommo way, a tent collapsed on us in the middle of the night.”

“Who asked for your input, Nialler?”

Harry sniggers around a mouthful of muffin, crumbs going down the wrong tube and choking him. Louis pushes his cup of tea towards him and rubs a hand across his upper back. Harry takes a sip to soothe his painful throat, grimacing at the taste of tea taken with too much milk and no sugar at all. He grabs a handful of sugar’s sachets to drop into the black tea, aware of Louis watching him from the corner of his eyes. He’s about to open a third packet when Louis’ hand closes around his wrist to stop him.

“You’ve already put enough sugar in there to give us diabetes, Harold.”

Harry huffs as he takes a sip of the sweetened tea, struggles not to grimace when he realises that he put too much sugar in the drink. He might have misjudged the amount of liquid left in the cup. He will drink it to the last drop, though, won’t give Louis the satisfaction of knowing he’s right. It’d only make him insufferable. Louis smirks at him, as if he knows anyway. He probably does, too. He’s always been able to read Harry like an open book, ever since the day they met.

_“Tag, you’re it!”_

_Harry spun on his heels as soon as he felt the slap on his arm, watched a kid cackle like a mad man while sprinting to the other side of the playground. And he didn’t know he was playing a game of tag, couldn’t remember agreeing to it, but his mum would be so happy if he made friends on his first day at this school. He chased after the boy, laughing kids running away from him as he approached them. He clearly wasn’t the fastest person at the playground. There was a girl taunting him on his left, poking her tongue at him in between fits of laughter, so he went after her, and tripped over his own feet. He fell on his knees, barely caught himself with his open hands, avoiding the humiliation of face planting against the gravel. It was only a small relief when pain made his knee throb and he had to close his eyes not to cry. He was not a baby and he was not going to cry. He pushed himself up and back on his feet, his eyes burning with tears he refused to shed. He closed them again, just for a second, just to gather his wits. He was not a baby. He was not going to cry. He was going to keep running after his new friends. He was not a baby._

_“Touch me.”_

_There was a boy in front of Harry, looking at him with very blue eyes and smiling at him with very pink lips. Harry blinked, stared at him, didn’t move an inch. The boy rolled his very blue eyes and sighed like Harry’s mum did when she was annoyed with him or Gemma. He clasped his fingers around Harry’s wrist and brought his scratched hand to his chest. There was a bit of blood on the boy’s Spiderman t-shirt but he didn’t seem to mind, or even notice maybe. Harry caught on and gave him a weak slap, lips curling upwards in spite of his throbbing knee and hands._

_“Tag, you’re it.”_

_The boy grinned at him and took off. Harry didn’t watch him for too long, chose to find a corner of the playground to sit instead. He wanted to look at his knees but he was scared of what he’d find under his trousers. Every step he took hurt, the fabric of his uniform pants rubbing against his wound. He was probably bleeding, too. His mum was going to spend the whole night scrubbing dried blood of his pants so he could wear them tomorrow. It made him want to cry even more. But he was not a baby so he was not going to cry. He found a spot under a tree, slightly out of sight._

_“How bad is it?” The boy asked as he plopped down next to Harry, close enough for their sides to touch. He didn’t even pretend to wait for his answer before he turned his hands around to look at the scraps. He poked at the scabs, glanced up at Harry with an apologetic smile when he flinched under his touch. “Does it hurt?”_

_“No. It’s okay. I’m okay.”_

_The boy stared at him for a long moment, lips pursed into a tight line. He reminded Harry of his mother, a little. She had that same look on her face when she caught him in a lie. He whimpered when the boy poked his knee. “Yeah, I don’t believe you.”_

_“I’m not a baby.” Harry muttered, pressing his legs against his chest and holding them with the arm that wasn’t on the boy’s laps. He was a big boy now and big boys didn’t run to the adults every time they had a scrap, or multiple scraps, no matter how painful those scraps were._

_The boy traced the scabs on the inside of Harry’s hand with a soft fingertip, a frown pulling at his eyebrows and lips curled down. “Being hurt doesn’t make you a baby.”_

_“But it make you cry and Gemma always say only babies cry.”_

_“Well, Gemma’s wrong.” The boy said, sounding so confident and a little offended by what Gemma thought. He put two fingers under Harry’s chin and lifted his head to catch his eyes. “I cry all the time; like I cry more than my little sister some days and she’s a baby so she cries a lot.”_

_Harry had never thought Gemma could tell him porky pies. He’d always trusted her too much to even just consider it. Big sisters didn’t lie to their baby siblings, she told him that all the time. It could very well be a lie, too. His knee really hurt a lot and he really wanted to cry. The boy smiled at him, not a big toothy grin but a curl of his lips that warmed Harry inside._

_“Come on, let’s go and show your wounds to the teachers.”_

_Harry nodded slowly, tears finally spilling out of his eyes and sobs racking his body. The boy wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him to his side, leading him to where the teachers overlooked the playground._

_“What’s your name?”_

_“Louis.”_

_Harry nodded, wiped his nose with the back of his hand and stopped to look Louis in the eyes. “Thanks, Louis.”_

 

_"_ I've got to admit it's quite tempting." 

Liam's hesitant enthusiasm pulls Harry out of the memory, a frown pulling at his eyebrows. He doesn't have the slightest idea what Liam's referring to, must have missed a big chunk of their conversation while lost in his own head. And there's no way he'll get the information out of his friends without making a complete fool of himself. 

"I'm in." Niall grins, sesame seeds stuck between his front teeth. His eagerness to agree to whatever Louis has planned isn't much of an indication but it has the merits of making Louis beam. "Might as well stock up on the fun before Liam gets hitched and becomes even more of a party pooper."

Louis cackles at that, throwing his head back, exposing the column of his throat. Harry just can't take his eyes off of him, of the endless expanse of tan skin.  And he knows he shouldn't have this kind of feelings for his best friend. He tried to stop it, is still trying to stop it, but it's not that easy. He can't control how he feels, no matter how much he wishes he could. It just doesn't work that way. 

Harry ends up agreeing to whatever his friends talked about while his brain was out of order. He's a little bit worried he might have signed up for a premature death, would put it past Louis to come up with life-threatening plans, it wouldn’t even be the first time, but he assumes Liam wouldn't even consider the idea if it was dangerous. And, truth be told, he would willingly jump off a plane without a parachute if Louis wanted him to. He hasn't mastered the art of saying no to the object of his unrequited love yet. He probably never will. 

**~~~~~~~**

There are pamphlets all over the flat, next to the kettle on the kitchen’s counter and under the plastic box full of biscuits on the living room’s table, between the cushions of the couch and on the armrest of the crooked rocking chair, spread on Louis’ duvet and thrown on Harry’s bedside table. They started to appear the day after their lunch at the coffee shop, mine gold of information about coast cities in California and Australia and Spain, printed reviews of Ibiza, Cancun and other famous party towns. It doesn’t take long for Harry to put two and two together, to figure Louis is planning a crazy get-away for Liam’s stag-do, and relief washes over him when he realises that he didn’t sell his soul to the devil after all.

**~~~~~~~**

“Sardinia.”

Harry starts at Louis’ entrance and exclamation, along with more than half of the customers in the downstairs’ area, spilling milk over the counter. Elena throws a rag at his head; a smirk on her lips as she goes to clean newly vacated tables. He regrets every one of the decisions that lead to him sharing his feelings for Louis with her. The biggest mistake of his life, it was. Actually, the biggest mistake of his life might be falling for his best friend, but it’s not like he had any control over that. He could have stopped himself from spilling all of his tormented thoughts to his co-worker after a few too many drinks, though.

“What, like the fish?”

Louis freezes with only half of his arse on the stool, gaze drifting to Niall ever so slowly, lips parting on a sigh. “Like the Italian island, Niall.”

“Right, yeah, I knew that." Niall mutters, cheeks red with embarrassment, gaze shifting from one point to another. Harry slips him a chocolate chips cookie for comfort. "What about Sardinia, then?" 

"It's the chosen destination, for Li's stag do." Louis announces, the corners of his eyes crinkled by the intensity of his smile. "I've found this house. It can accommodate up to ten people, is less than a mile from the beach. I've already contacted the landlord to negotiate the price and I can already promise that it's in everyone's budget."

"I thought Liam wanted to think about it for a bit longer?" Harry asks, eyebrows furrowed as he takes a blueberry muffin from the glass display and sets it in front of Louis. He might have been spaced out for most of the conversation but he remembers Liam saying he'll consider it very clearly. He mentioned needing time to see if he could afford to take the days off at work and other adult-stuff Harry would rather not think about. 

"Yeah, and knowing Liam he will still be thinking about it on his deathbed." Louis huffs while he cuts a piece of the muffin. He offers a bite to Harry, his lips curling upwards as Harry just eats it straight out of his hand. And Harry thinks that may be the roots of his problematic feelings, all that natural domesticity. It'd be easier to get over them if their friendship was even just a little less intense. "So I went ahead and talked to Lyla about it. She gave the green-light to book everything, just as long as everyone's okay with the proposition." 

"Well, let's go to Sardinia then." 

**~~~~~~~**

Louis dedicates all of his free time to the organisation of Liam's stag party. Harry can't remember a time he took anything as seriously as he does this. He sends e-mails to Liam's closest friends within a day of getting Liam's approval, asking them to reply quickly in order to rent the house as soon as possible, while it's still pretty affordable. Andy's the only one to respond positively to the invitation to spend three weeks on the Sardinian's coast, James and Patrick opting to only join them for a weekend at the end of their stay due to work commitments and Geoff just shutting down all attempts to include him in his son's stag-do. Louis contacts the landlord as soon as he has everyone's answer and confirms they'll be renting the house in August. He then spends most of his evenings looking for the cheapest way to get to Sardinia, all along updating them on his findings and asking for their thoughts on each option. He also makes a list of activities that will please Liam without boring the rest of them to death. And Harry watches him. He watches him searching the Internet for reviews, circling places to visit on a map of Sardinia and highlighting too many paragraphs in his travel guide.  

"Why is it so important to you?" Harry dares to ask one night, fingers carding through Louis' hair where his head lays on his laps. He's looking at restaurants' reviews on Internet, making a list of the ones they can afford, eyes alights with excitement as he reads the best and worst comments out loud, and Harry could listen to him all night. He could forego sleep and be dead on his feet the next day without any regrets. But he wants to understand, wants to know what's going on in his best friend's head, even if it bugs him to have to ask. 

"So many comments saying they make the best pasta and you know how much I love pasta." Louis answers, toothy grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. 

Harry flicks him on the tip of his nose, getting an affronted glare in return. "Not what I meant and you know it."

"Revenge." Louis shrugs, eyes going back to his laptop's screen as he clicks on the link to a pizzeria's page. "I want to make Liam regret not asking me to be his best man." 

"Truth." Harry murmurs, pulling on Louis hair to make him look at him again. And Harry knows he's trying to find a way to deflect again when he doesn't divert his attention from the screen. But he knows he'll tell him the real reason in the end. 

_"Like, I mean, we knew it was going to happen eventually, yeah? Like, we knew he wasn't going to live with us forever, he couldn't, so it makes it kind of not a big deal, you know?"_

_Louis grabbed the swing's chain to stop it, fingers closing around Harry's strong grip on them and squeezing until his knuckles stopped looking so white. He let go of one hand to brush his fringe off his forehead and caught his gaze with a small smile on his lips, a sad smile that didn't reach eyes at all. He clearly read right through Harry's lies, could tell he was just trying to look strong when he really was crumbling._

_"You are allowed to be upset, Haz."_

_Harry's teeth caught on his bottom lip, his eyes drifting to the pavement. Maybe he should have called Alice rather than Louis. She'd have let him get away with the lies, wouldn't have forced him to talk about what was happening at his house, why he needed to get away for a while. But he always went to Louis. He was his very best friend; he was always going to turn to him first. But he really didn't want to talk right now. He didn't want to admit he was sad because he was nine now, didn't believe in fairytale anymore, and his parents had been separated for two years so really, it had been a long time coming, his dad moving out of their house, and it shouldn't hurt this much._

_"Truth." Louis murmured, giving a loose curl a playful tug. Harry regretted ever agreeing to play this game of Louis, the one where they had no choice but tell the truth when the other requested it. It wasn't even a real game, according to Jonny. He trusted Jonny, just maybe not as much as he trusted Louis._

_"I don't want him to leave us."_

 

_"_ I just feels like it's our last chance to do something fun together, you know? Like, Liam's getting married in September, and you're going on that backpacking trip you've been talking about for years after the wedding and I don't know what Niall planned to do with his life but he might have to move too and I'll end up alone in this big city with only a dozen of cats for company." 

Harry can feel Louis' heartbeat under his palm, fast and erratic. And his breathing pattern's too shallow, too wheezing. And Louis doesn't usually panic, that's more Harry's thing, but he looks like he might be on the verge of a panic attack right now. Harry should know what to do to calm him down but he's never been on this side of a panic attack. He just might make it worse. He thinks back to the times when he had anxiety attacks every other day, tries to remember what Louis did to get him out of it. He helped him control his breathing, it was always the first step. And then he made him laugh to rid him of the nasty thoughts haunting his brain. He only addressed the cause of his anxiety once he was sure it wouldn't trigger another attack. It might not be the best way to deal with this but it has always worked on him. 

"You don't even like cats."

And it's not even remotely funny, it's the truth too, but Louis laughs anyway, lolls his head to the side and buries his face into Harry's thigh to muffle the sound of his laughter. Harry's breath hitches, his feeling suddenly taut and nervous. He might be the one in need of being talked out of a panic attack soon. He thinks of unpleasant things and waits for Louis to calm down, waits for his heart to beat at its normal rate. He doesn't know what torments him exactly, if he's more afraid of things changing in general or of being the only one left behind once they do. But he can't tell him nothing's going to change. It'd be a lie and they don't lie to each other. They just say hide truths and keeps secrets.

"Changes are inevitable, yeah, but you won't end up alone." 

Louis huffs into Harry's thigh. "You can't know that, though." 

"Sure I can." Harry assures confidently. He firmly believes they're soulmates, he and Louis, just not in the romantic sense of the word. Fate brought them together all those years ago and he has no doubt fate will always help them find their way back to each other. They will always be Louis and Harry, no matter what, there's just no way around it. "It doesn't matter where I disappear to and for how long, I will always come back to you." 

Louis looks at his, gaze catching his and not letting go for a long while, not even to blink. And Harry wonders if he's said too much, gone too far and scared him. But there's an upward curl to Louis' lips, the shadows of the laughing lines by his eyes. He brings a hand to Harry's neck, fingers pressing on his pulse point. 

"Love you too, Curly."

Harry's heart expands and breaks at the same time, his internal voice whispering in his head.  _If he only knew._

**~~~~~~~**

Liam demands that they take a roadtrip, drive all the way to Portosanto and visit a bit of France while they're at it. Harry, Louis and Niall aren't too thrilled at the  prospect of spending the first couple of days of their holidays in a car but, under his innocent appearance, Liam masters  the art of emotional manipulation. Louis, who's done nothing but try to make this trip one to remember for Liam, caves when Liam tells him how he has always wanted them to take a roadtrip, just the four of them, and how this holiday feels like the perfect opportunity, maybe even their last chance to actually do it. Harry doesn't think about it longer than Louis does, where one goes the other follows, always. Niall might only tag along to not feel like the odd man out but it doesn't keep him from getting overly excited the closer they get to the departure. Louis plans their itinerary to the last detail, includes breaks and detours to sightsee, books hotels and convinces his mum to lend him her car somehow, which will be more comfortable and economic than any of their cars. 

**~~~~~~~**

Days come and go, turn into weeks and then months. Harry drowns in revision, then in iced beverages and bake-goods, and then in a too big graduation robe that has Louis laughing all throughout the ceremony. August all but creeps up on him. He's never been so unprepared for anything while Louis has never been so well prepared for anything. It's very much out of character for the both of them but it all works out because they make a good team, the two of them, the best team, the dream team.

They leave early on a Thursday morning and Louis takes the first turn behind the wheel, driving them out of London more easily than he expected, mostly thanks to Liam's GPS. Harry struggles to stay awake, dozing off every now and then, only to wake up with a start. Liam and Niall don't seem to have the same issue, or bad conscience to leave Louis as the only one awake, both fast asleep in the backseat, snores and mumbled words disrupting the silence at time. Harry gets his camera out of the backpack at his feet and turns to snap a photograph of his friends. He grins at the sight of them, Niall's face squashed again the window, drool pooling at the corner of his mouth, Liam leaning against the icebox, head at what looks like an uncomfortable angle. He aims the lense at Louis, takes in the details of his profile; the sharp cut of his jawbones, the light blush on his cheeks, the curl of his eyelashes. And his heart stutters, butterflies take residence in his belly. He's known Louis for over fifteen years now, has had the most pathetic of crushes on him for at least half of it, but he still takes his breath away. 

"You're worse than paparazzi, honestly." Louis groans, taking advantage of a red light to turn in his seat and make a face for the next picture, eyes crossed and tongue out. "What do you even need all those pictures of me for anyway?"

"My bank wank." 

Louis guffaws, his eyes crinkling as he reaches out to whack Harry behind the head. There are some grumbles coming from behind them, the sound of Louis' laughter having startled both Niall and Liam. Harry doesn't want to apologise for waking them up and he doesn't want Louis to stop laughing, like ever. "You do talk some shit, Styles." 

**~~~~~~~**

The shuttle to Calais takes just over half an hour, thirty-five minutes too many for Niall who gets grumpier and grumpier the longer they are in the tunnel. It’s possible Louis forgot to take Niall’s claustrophobic tendencies into account when he went for the shuttle rather than the ferryboat. Louis acts like a complete loon to distract him, pretends to be the most uncomfortable with the thought of being stuck in a tunnel under the ocean, and encourages Harry to share the lamest jokes in his repertoire to take Niall’s mind off of the water surrounding them. It works, sort of, enough to keep Niall from having an anxiety attack in the Channel Tunnel at least. Louis rewards him with an unplanned stop at the beach and a hot chocolate. They take a walk through the city after that, argue about whether the panoramic view of Calais is worth the price they have to pay to climb on top of the lighthouse and collectively gape at the beautiful building serving as city hall. And Harry immortalises it all with his camera, to his friends’ pretend annoyance.

Louis throws the car keys at Liam when they’re all ready to go, gives the itinerary to Niall and pushes Harry on the backseat. He waits for Liam to back out of the parking lot to lean against Harry, head settled on his shoulder, and close his eyes. Harry presses his cheek against the top of Louis’ head, a content smile pulling at the corners of his lips as warm puffs of air brushing against his collarbones. Niall plugs his phone to the radio to put on a playlist he apparently spent days making specifically for the roadtrip. It turns out to be a collection of all their favourite songs, which makes for quite an eclectic mix but is a pleasant soundtrack to their little adventure. Harry dozes off to the sound of Danny O’Donoghue singing about heartbreak, Louis a solid weight against him. And he quite likes this roadtrip so far.

**~~~~~~~**

They stop in Reims for lunch, get a table in a traditional restaurant and dare each other to try typical French dishes. Louis is more than a little bummed when their waiter announces they're out of snails, effectively ruining his bet with Liam, but gets him to eat fried frogs' legs instead. Liam's face when he chews on the legs has Louis doubling over, his laughter disrupting other patrons enough that the waiter has to come ask him to tone it down. Harry's almost surprised when he complies without much of a fuss. 

They go to the Cathedral and Mars Gate after lunch, foregoing seeing much more of the city in favour of getting to the next town before the sun set. Harry takes the wheel, is just the tiniest bit disappointed when Louis climbs in the back with Liam and leaves the passenger seat to Niall. 

**~~~~~~~**

They get a room in a chain hotel just outside of Dijon. It's not the fanciest of places, has the four of them piled up in a shoebox sized room and sharing a bathroom with half of their floor, but it's clean and cheap and they're all too tired to complain at this point. They get a bus to town once they've all showered and changed, have an early dinner in a diner like place and decide to give their feet a rest and put off the visit till morning.

Harry settles on the bed he claimed as his, sitting criss-cross with his laptop on his laps and his camera next to him on the mattress. He looks around the room as he waits for his laptop to start, Niall already snoring on top of the opposite bunk beds, Louis making a mess of his suitcase. His eyes might linger a little longer than is adequate on his best friend’s arse, the perfect curve and fullness of it. And he thinks, definitely not for the first time, that it should be classified as the ninth wonder of the world, or the eighth deadly sin, something. He quickly averts his eyes when the door clicks open, focusing on his computer’s screen, his face warm from the blood rushing to his cheeks. He plugs his camera to his laptop and starts the transfer of today’s pictures onto his hard-drive, watching the miniatures pass by on the screen, with the sound of Louis and Liam’s chatter as background noise to his thoughts. There are few photographs of France’s landscape that looks decent, maybe even good enough to be added to his portfolio. He smiles at the photographs of his friends, making faces at the camera, pretending to hide from the lens, silhouettes walking ahead of him. And he feels a surge of affection for them, feels so lucky to have them in his life. He’d get up to hug them, tell them he loves them and all that, but they’d probably think he lost it. And Niall would skin him alive if he woke him up.

“Budge over.” Louis says, already moving on the mattress to sit behind Harry. He scoots closer and sprawls his legs on each side of Harry’s body, hands roaming on the full length of his back, fingertips digging lightly at the bottom of his spine and between his shoulder blades. “How’s your back?”

Harry’s heart swells a little at the care in Louis’ voice, one corner of his lips lifting in a crooked smile. He forgets sometimes how attentive Louis is, how caring he is with the people he loves. He doesn’t show that side of him to just anyone, a thing Harry has a hard time to comprehend. “A bit stiff. Mostly okay, though.”  

Louis hums distractedly, kneading Harry’s shoulders with just enough pressure to make it feel good, and Harry leans into the touch without even thinking about it. It is sort of a thing, Louis giving back massages to Harry, has been since Harry went through a sudden growth spurt that messed with his spine. And his hands are magic, work wonders on Harry’s aching back, but it has become a curse with time. He’s completely gone for Louis, is the thing. And it’s torture to him, their friendship, the closeness and easy domesticity it’s made of, but he can’t even just consider taking his distance. He’d rather have this than nothing at all. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts him. He startles when his laptop pings to inform him that the transfer’s done, a window popping up on the screen asking if he wants to delete the pictures from his SD card.

Louis chuckles, thumbs digging into the dimples at the bottom of his back before he drops his hands to Harry’s hips and squeezes lightly. He moves from behind Harry, gets off the bed and walks to his suitcase. “Take your shirt off and lays on your stomach, will you?”

Harry chokes on his saliva, disguising it as a half-arsed cough. He’s had dreams in which Louis said very similar things to him. The night often ends with Harry having to wash soiled sheets or have a shameful wanks in the shower. But he’s awake right now. He’s not in the middle of a heated dream and Louis won’t be fucking him into the mattress tonight. His brain is very much aware of that. His dick, however, doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo and fills up very quickly. He places his laptop on his laps to hide the evidence of his arousal in case Louis decided to turn around, carefully unplugs his camera and turns the computer off. He glances at Louis, who’s searching for something through the mess he made of his suitcase, and puts both items into his backpack. He flips on his front rather quickly, hissing as his cock rubs against the mattress. He buries his face in the pillow, fills his head with the most unpleasant thoughts he can think of. 

But then Louis climbs on the mattress and straddles his hips, sits just above his arse and inches his shirt off his body. And Harry just knows his hard-on is not going to wilt any time soon. He bites the inside of his cheek to not moan out right out when Louis puts his hands on him. And there's just no way for this thing to end well. He'll embarrass himself sooner or later, make everything uncomfortable and awkward. And he should stop Louis right now, save them from this disaster waiting to happen. But he won't. If there is an end date to this, he'll make sure he enjoys every second he has of it before losing it forever. 

"Really, guys, with me and Niall in the room?"

**~~~~~~~**

They decide to leave the car at the hotel and take the bus to town, since it's an actual option and none of them feel like struggling to find a parking spot in an unknown city. They head straight to the tourists centre and get the necessities to follow the Owl's Path; a sort of tour taking people through the historical centre of Dijon. Louis declares himself the leader of their excursion, claims the map as his and get them lost more than once. They do find the owl marking the end of the tour eventually, touch it with their left hand to humour its reputation of being good luck, take pictures with it and go back to the hotel to pick up the car. 

**~~~~~~~**

The drive to Lyon only takes about two hours, traffic being rather good this time of the day, so they get to visit bits of the city before their stomachs start to growl.  They opt for sandwiches, only having a limited amount of time allotted to Lyon if they want to get to Marseille on time to catch the ferry to Olbia and wanting to see as much of the city as they can. They stop by the market on the way back to the car, stocks up on tasty food for the long ferry ride. 

Niall steals the keys straight out of Louis hands, claiming it isn't fair that he didn't get to drive in France yet. Liam pretends to put on a fight under Louis' instruction but cracks up before Niall can get even just a little bit worked up. Louis rolls his eyes at the both of them and pulls Harry after him when he climbs in the back of the car.

**~~~~~~~**

They hit a bit of a traffic jam halfway to their next stop, long queue of unmoving cars ahead of them. Louis gets restless soon enough, muttering complaints and insults at other drivers, throwing balls of paper into Harry's hair with a straw he found under his seat, poking Liam's arm for no other purpose than to annoy him. Niall turns the radio on, loud enough to do some serious damage to their ears, and purposefully butcher whatever song is on, singing as out of tune as he can and getting all the lyrics wrong. Liam and Harry join in, bursting into laughter every other line, while Louis pouts through the first couple of songs but ends up giving up pretences and singing louder than the three others combined. They're still laughing by the time they arrive to the port where the ferry departs from two hours later. 

**~~~~~~~**

The journey to Olbia takes over fourteen hours, hence the decision to travel there at night. The cabin is small and narrow, can barely fit the four of them, and Niall starts to feel sick just at the sight. They drop their things quickly and go to the deck. They don't goof around for once, don't make a show of themselves. They just sit on the deck-chairs and talk about everything and nothing, about the past and the future. They talk about Liam's upcoming wedding, Niall's desire to move back to Ireland eventually, and Harry's plan to backpack around the world with no return date set in stone. Louis stays unusually quiet most of the evening, only chirping in when directly prompted, gaze on the horizon and lips pursed into a thin line. So Harry pulls him into his chair and cuddle him until the frown on his face dissipate. And it won't keep things from changing, won't help that it upsets Louis, but it has to do for now. And it works anyway; Louis does perk up once in Harry's arms. He even teasingly bothers Liam again. All is good in the world, even if just for a little while. 

They head inside eventually, longer after nightfall and only because the wind has picked up. They eat in the common part, Niall snuggled up against Louis' side, whimpering every time waves rock the boat a little too forcefully. And he looks miserable enough that Liam apologies for forcing a roadtrip on them. They're all glad he did, though, even if they all could have done without a night on a swinging boat. Harry doesn't even think about it when he climbs into Niall's bed instead of his own and curl up around him.

Niall chuckles, puffs of air messing with Harry's hair. "Louis is going to kill me." 

Harry has absolutely no idea why Louis would want to kill Niall but he promises to protect him anyway. Niall's amused "sure you will." the last thing he hears before falling asleep. 

**~~~~~~~**

Harry wakes up with Niall half-sprawled on top of him and Louis watching them from his bed. And he does look like he's just about ready to kill them, for reasons that escape Harry. He raises an eyebrow when he notices Harry's awake, eyes narrowing in slits as his gaze flicks from Harry to Niall and back to Harry, what looks a lot like accusation in his eyes. If Harry didn't know any better he'd think Louis is jealous. But he can't be jealous; it'd make no sense. Niall's as straight as an arrow, for one. He might initiate some kissing when he's drunk but he's drawn the line at dry pecks on the lips, never anything more, never anything under the belt. And even if Niall were interested in men they could never be anything more than friends. Harry's just not attracted to him that way. But even if he were, even if he and Niall actually were together, it shouldn't upset Louis. It shouldn't make him jealous. Louis will never feel the way Harry does, it's a fact Harry accepted a long time ago, and he's okay with it. But  something about Louis' behaviour right now isn't right. It just isn't how someone  would react to his friend cuddling with another friend. 

_Harry headed straight to Louis' bedroom and fell face-first on his bed, the strong smell of Louis' cologne hitting his nostril and making him want to gag a little. He still didn't understand why Louis needed cologne all of a sudden, or why he could even think that horrible perfume would get all the girls to fall at his feet. Or they might fall at his feet, actually, when they fainted from the sickening smell._

_"Right, what's up with the overdramatic entrance?" Louis asked, his desk chair creaking as he spun it to face the bed. Harry didn't need to look at him to know exactly how he was sitting, right ankle resting on his left knee, chewed on pen stuck between his lips and notebook on his laps. He was probably trying to look serious but failing by a mile or two._

_"Aiden kissed Lily at lunch break." Harry whined into the smelly blanket, throwing his arms in the air to fully express his defeated mood. "My life's over."_

_"I didn't know you had a thing for Lily."_

_"I don't care about Lily." Harry scoffed, felt like laughing at that, the idea of him having any sort of feelings for Lily. She was pretty cute, objectively, and a great person, but he only liked her as a friend._

_"What are you so upset for then?"_

_Harry turned his head to the side to look at Louis, who stared at him with his lips curled downwards and eyebrows pulled together in a frown. He looked confused and maybe a little upset. But he had no reason to be upset. Lily wasn't his kind of girl, like at all, and she was too young for him anyway. It'd be gross if his best friend were to date a girl his age. Louis sighed very audibly and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, next to Harry, carding a hand through his hair._

_"Why are you upset, Curly?" Louis asked again, tone softer as he tugged on a loose curl. He did it again, a little harder, when Harry just stared at him, not saying anything. "I pinky promise not to laugh." He added after another long moment of silence, holding the hand that was not in Harry's hair between them, pinky out._

_And Harry knew Louis wasn't going to be able to keep that promise, the reason for his sour mood being ridiculous and all, but he curled his pinky around his anyway. "Everyone had their first kiss now, except me."_

_Louis didn't laugh, just breathed out a quiet "oh" while his hand froze in Harry's hair. And Harry almost wished he had laughed at him now. He just didn't know what to make of this reaction, couldn't tell what Louis thought of his admission. He let out a strangled sob, a blush warming his cheeks instantly, and hided his face into the blanket again. Maybe he could smother himself, suffocate in the horrible scent of Louis' cologne. And it wouldn't matter anymore that he never kissed anyone and would probably never kissed anyone._

_The bed dipped when Louis moved to lie next to Harry. He brought a finger up to poke his cheek, kept doing it until the corner of Harry's mouth lifted in a smile. He dug his finger into the spot where Harry's dimple appeared sometimes. "You're only thirteen, Haz, still plenty of time for you to get that damn first kiss."_

_"You had already kissed Cece when you were thirteen."_

_Louis scoffed and tugged on the curls at the back of Harry's head hard enough to hurt. And Harry totally deserved it. Louis had told Harry that day, when they had been walking home after school, that he hadn't wanted to kiss Cece but had felt pressured into it and he'd regretted it as soon as it'd happened. Harry had told him he'd been silly to give his first kiss to a girl he hadn't even liked just because it had seemed like the thing to do. But he barely had been eleven at the time, he didn't know a thing about peer pressure. He did now, and he understood why Louis had kissed Cece that day. He was pretty sure he wouldn't mind having his first kiss happen during a game of truth or dare. At least it'd be out of the way and he could enjoy his life again. But he realised how mentioning his first kiss to Louis could upset him so he muttered a half-arsed apology into the blanket._

_"It's okay, love." Louis assured, fingers  tracing the line of Harry's spine softly. It felt nice, comforting. "Just promise me you won't make the same mistake as me and waste your first kiss on someone you don't even like."_

_Harry turned his head to the side to look at Louis again, and his eyes slipped on Louis' lips. He looked back up, eyes meeting Louis' soft gaze. There was no one he liked more than Louis and there would never be. "I wish you could be my first kiss."_

_Louis didn't say anything to that, just brought a hand up to cup Harry's cheek, eyes trailing down to his mouth, thumb tracing his bottom lip gently. And Harry thought Louis was going to kiss him. He wanted Louis to kiss him, right then and there. Louis didn't kiss him but he didn't move away either, not until Lottie and Fiz barged into his room and startled them apart._

Niall stirs awake, eyelashes brushing against Harry’s collarbones when his eyes flutter open. Harry’s attention drifts away from Louis and onto Niall, small smile pulling at the corners of his lips when Niall looks up at him with sleepy eyes, his own lips curled into a lazy grin. Louis clears his throat loudly, requesting their attention in a very unsubtle way. Niall tenses in Harry’s embrace, body going stiff as he turns his eyes to the side and get a look at Louis’ face. Next thing Harry knows there’s a space the side of an ocean between Niall and him, which is quite impressive considering the size of the bed.

“Slept well?” Louis asks rudely, narrowed eyes staring past Harry and straight at Niall. And the passive-aggressive behaviour is nothing new coming from Louis, it has always been his favourite defence when annoyed or pissed, but it’s extremely out of place right now. Niall has done nothing to deserve Louis’ wrath. “All cosy and comfortable there, Nialler?”

Niall’s eyes, unblinking and wide open, roam over Louis’ face quickly. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out, only a shaky puff of air makes it past his lips. He looks distraught and terrified, as if he really does believe Louis will kill him for sleeping in the same bed as Harry. And Harry’s never been more confused in his life, not even when he started to realise he’d fallen in love with his best friend and that was an extremely confusing time full of self-hate and self-doubt and full of a bunch of other unpleasant things. But he’ll be damned if he lets Louis treat one of their best friends like crap for no apparent reason.

“Stop being a dick, Lou.”

Louis’ gaze flicks to Harry’s face, eyebrows climbing to his hairline and mouth falling open in shock. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. Harry might be gone on Louis but he’s not afraid to call him on his crap when necessary and it feels quite necessary right now. Louis is being rude to Niall for no reason. He’s being a shit just for the hell of it. And Harry’s not going to feel bad for remarking on it.

Louis scoffs, climbs out of bed and stomps out of the room. Harry watches the door close behind him, wondering how long it’ll take him to realise he went out in his boxers and nothing else. The answer is twenty minutes, and it’d probably have taken a bit longer if an old lady hadn’t yelled at him for being so indecent. And he’s cackling as he tells them the story, sour mood completely forgotten, at least for now.

**~~~~~~~**

The house is everything Harry imagined from the description online, maybe even more than that. The front is well maintained, flowers lined up on each side of the front step and large porch, a swing-seat on the left side of the dark blue door. The ocean is visible in the background, infinite. Harry’s fingers hitch with the want to get his camera and run to the beach, meeting the landlords and visiting the house be damned. He doesn’t think the guys would be very happy with him, though, if he just took off now. He follows them out of the car and to the man standing by the front porch, acutely aware of Louis’ hand on his lower back. And he’s always done that, lead Harry with a hand flat on his back or curled around his hip, but it feels different today, more possessive somehow, probably because of the way he holds onto Harry’s t-shirt so tightly. Harry tries to concentrate his attention on the man waiting for them, not ready for the headache that always comes with trying to understand Louis’ behaviour. He must be in his twenties, early thirties at the most, dark hair falling on sparkling brown eyes, tanned skin and muscles on display in a white tank top and flowery swim shorts. He’s rather attractive, really, and he doesn’t give the self-absorb vibe a lot of Italian guys have.

“Hey there! Welcome to Portosanto!” The guy greets them in perfect English, no sign of an accent, lips curling into a grin big enough to split his face in two. “I’m Dylan, co-owner of this beautiful little house some of you clearly are already in love with.”  

Louis chuckles next to Harry, bringing the hand that’s not currently curling around his hip to his chin and applying a bit of pressure to get him to close his mouth completely. So Harry might have been gaping at the house all this time. It really is beautiful, though. And he really is in love with it, already wishes he could live here all year long. Maybe Louis would be okay with the idea of moving here permanently. He could surf every day the weather allows it. Harry could watch him. He can already see it in his mind. He sees the droplets glistening on Louis’ golden skin as he advances towards him on the beach, surfboard under his arm and wet fringe in his eyes. And it doesn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. He would of sexual frustration within days. He might die of sexual frustration within days of this holiday, actually.

“The gaping goof’s Harry.” Louis’ voice breaks through Harry’s internal freak-out, hand patting his cheek playfully. “And our friends, Liam and Niall.”

Dylan takes the time to shake their hands individually, repeating an enthusiastic “nice to meet you” to the four of them, smile not faltering for one second. Harry quite likes him already, hopes they’ll get to see him again and not just cause they have issues with the house.

“Alright, I’ll show you around the house real quick and be out of your hair.” Dylan announces, quickly climbing the few steps to the porch and unlocking the door for them. Louis places his arm back around Harry’s middle and walk close to him. And Harry can’t deny that Louis is acting more possessive than usual anymore. He finds that he doesn’t really mind, though.

The first room they walk into is the living room, bright due to the floor to ceiling windows and glass sliding door, sparsely decorated with various photographs of random landscapes and reproductions of famous paintings. The cream coloured couch in the middle of the room is quite impressive, fits perfectly with the beige wooden coffee table in front of it and the flat TV screen attached to the opposing wall. There’s a long table behind it, made of the same clear wood as the coffee table, eight comfortable-looking chairs around it. The large kitchen island marks the separation between the common area and kitchen, three stools placed by it. And Harry might have a mini orgasm at the sight of the kitchen itself, so much space and many cupboards. It looks a lot like his dream kitchen, to be honest, and he can tell he’s going to love cooking in there. 

They head upstairs next, choosing to keep the back of the house and its private path to the beach for last. The first two bedrooms they look at are pretty similar, twin beds on each side of the room and a big wardrobe between them, clear blue and white tones all over. The third bedroom isn’t much different, really, just with a queen size bed replacing the twin beds and the blue tone a touch darker. The fourth bedroom, however, is nothing like the others. It’s larger, for one, enough to shelter a California king-size bed. And it has its own bathroom, with a bathtub big enough for two people to bath together, as well as a balcony with a beautiful view on the ocean. Harry can imagine himself sitting on the balcony to watch the sunrise, Louis looking all soft and sleepy next to him, grumbling about the early morning wake-up call but looking mesmerized by the colourful sky.

"So I believe we can all agree me and Harry should get the master bedroom." Louis says once they're done exploring the first floor, hands clasped on Harry's shoulders as they walk down the stairs.

Harry falters, almost topples down the staircase when Louis crashes against his back. He has good reflexes, though, for once, and manages to grip the bannister in time to keep his balance. He didn't know he was going to share a room with Louis, is the thing, let alone a bed. And it's not that he has a problem with that, they have been sharing beds ever since they were kids and it really is no big deal, except for how it's totally a big deal. And it's been a big deal since Harry started developing stupidly strong feelings for Louis. It's just so hard to be this close to the person he loves but not being able to touch them, not in the way he'd like to at least. It's torture, pure and simple. Maybe it's his fate to die on this trip. Maybe he was never meant to see England again. He'd have hugged his mum for a bit longer if he'd known.

"And why is that?"

Liam's the one who voices the question that's on everyone's tongue, standing at the bottom of the stairs with his arms crossed over his shoulders and a single eyebrow raised. Harry glances at Louis over his shoulder, sees him roll his eyes and hears his quiet sight.

"Because my dear little bean, there's two of us, which means we need twice the space you selfish buggers do, and since the master bedroom's the biggest, well, you do the maths."

Harry must admit that Louis' reasoning makes sense, sort of. The other rooms are still big enough to accommodate the two of them, though, and they all know it. They also know Louis doesn't want the master bedroom strictly for the extra space but Harry would be surprised if they didn't indulge him. He's got them all wrapped around his finger.

"Yeah, okay, but you don't have to share with Harry."

"Five guys, four bedrooms, only four will get to sleep in a bed." Louis says in his best impression of a TV presenter, which makes both Niall and Harry giggle while Liam continues to look unimpressed.

"I meant it doesn't have to be you two. I can share with Andy, for example, since it's unlikely either of us will bring anyone back for the night."

Harry has no intention of bringing any guy back to the house, is the thing. He's only here to have a good time with his friends, not search the town for a one night stand or two. It'd feel like a waste of time to him. But Louis might not see it that way. He might actually want to get laid while here. And Harry already finds it hard enough to find Louis' conquests in their kitchen the following morning, he doesn't know how he'd deal with having to desert his own room to allow Louis to have sex with some random person. He doesn't think he'd handle it very well, thoug. He's not that bothered by the idea of sleeping on the couch if Niall were to bring a girl back, though, so maybe he should share with Niall instead, or even Andy.

"Do you want to have meaningless sex with a stranger, Curly?" Louis asks with a sight, almost as nonchalantly as if he was talking about the weather. Harry just shrugs, doesn't turn around to look at Louis or attempt to speak, certain he'd sputter and make a fool of himself. "It's sorted then, Harold and I will share the master bedroom. You peasants can fight for the queen bed."

~~~~~~~

They unload the car in a lot less time than it took them to load it in spite of the tiredness settling in their bones now that they're settling down into their home for the next couple of weeks. They basically just throw everything in their respective room to unpack later and walk to the beach via the house's private path. They sit there for a moment, just watching the wave crash against the rocks, listening to the seagulls and laughing kids, Louis' thumb spooning Harry's pinkie where their hands stay on the sand between them.

The grumbling of Niall’s stomach soon interrupts the moment, the sound of it so loud it has all four guys bursting into laughter. They go to a small family-run pizzeria in town that Dylan recommended to them earlier and literally stuff their faces with the best pizzas ever by mankind. Louis steals all of Harry's olives straight off of his pizza but gives him all of his yellow peppers in exchange so they leave the restaurant on good terms. Liam uses his rusty Italian to get directions to the nearest supermarket from their waiter but confuses left and right somehow, effectively getting them lost. Niall's the first to get sick of the endless detours, surprisingly, and to swipe his phone out to use Google map, expensive roaming data be damned.

They might not be home but Louis stays faithful to his grocery shopping antics, filling their cart with too many different sorts of cereals and junk food until Harry has to argue with him in the middle of the chocolate aisle. It's routine by now, and Harry doesn't really notice the weird looks they get every time they banter in the middle of Tesco. But it feels different here, surrounded by foreign people who speak a foreign language and probably wonder what these two British lunatics are even fighting about in their usually quiet store. Louis cackles when he tells him how strange it feels to argue in a foreign country, and takes advantage of his admitted awkwardness to get him to the cashier with three boxes of cereals and more biscuits than veggies or fruits in the cart.

"You two are so married it's disgusting." Niall tells them as they load the car, a grin on his face in spite of his attempted disgusted tone. Louis just shrugs, winks at Harry and continues putting bags in the trunk of the car. And if they seem to be completely in sync as they do things, well, it's so normal for them that no one comments on it.

~~~~~~~

Harry and Louis opt out of going to pick up Andy at the airport, giving Niall no choice but to begrudgingly volunteer to go with Liam. And Harry would feel bad about practically forcing Niall to spend another couple of hours copped up in the car but he has too much of a good time with Louis to actually care about Niall's fate. They start by settling into their room, unpacking and placing their clothes in the giant wardrobe. Or rather, Harry unpacks and places their clothes into the giant wardrobe while Louis sits crossed-legs on the middle of the bed and playfully criticises Harry's choice of shirts. He places their empty suitcases in a corner of the bedroom and turn to Louis, who is looking at the wardrobe with his bottom lip stuck between his teeth. And Harry looks at it too, tries to find what has Louis staring at a wardrobe so intensely, but all he sees are their clothes all jumbled together. So he just shrugs it off as one of Louis' moments of weirdness. It seems to happen more and more often lately.

“Want to make cookies?”

Louis visibly startles at the sound of Harry’s voice and he turns his gaze towards Harry, looking like he’s just noticed his presence. He quickly shakes himself out of it, though. “I think I’d rather chop off all of my fingers and eat them, to be honest.” He answers, smirk slipping on his lips as he says the words. “But yeah, sure, I’ll help you.”

Harry throws a hair-tie in Louis’ direction and hits him square on the forehead, loud laughter filling the room when he catches the shock and offence on Louis’ face. And he knows Louis won’t let him get away with it so he takes off before he can recover, runs downstairs and looks for a good place to hide. He hears Louis’ hurried footsteps echoing through the staircase and quickly moves to crouch by the couch, looking at a grinning Louis over the armrest. Their playful chase ends with the both of them sprawled on the kitchen’s floor, flour and condiments on every surface as well as their bodies. And everything’s such a blur that Harry’s not entirely sure how it happened but his stomach still hurts from how much he laughed so he doesn’t really care. They don’t make cookies but he forces Louis to help him clean up before the others come back from the airport.

~~~~~~~

Louis’ side of the bed is empty when Harry wakes up the next morning but the sheets are still warm where he laid. And he doesn’t see the point in resisting the urge to bury into the leftover warmth, to breathe in Louis’ natural scent. He lies there for a few minutes, lips curled into a small smile where they are pressed against Louis’ pillowcase. He manages to get himself out of bed eventually and head downstairs wearing only his boxers. It’s not like the guys haven’t seen him half-naked before anyway. Well, maybe Andy didn’t but he definitely will at some point so might as well get it out of the way now. He finds Louis and Liam in the kitchen, sitting on the stools by the kitchen’s island, phonebook open in front of them. Louis looks up from the yellowing pages, lips parting around words that don’t quite make it out of his mouth, replaced by a shaky exhale instead. Harry’s pretty sure his eyes linger on his chest for a moment too long. It’s probably just wishful thinking, though. Louis sees him shirtless all the time, has no reason to falter at the sight of him.

“Morning, Curly.” Louis finally greets him, eyes moving back to the phonebook rather than up to Harry’s face. He still looks all sleepy and soft. Harry wants to kiss him. He doesn’t. “There’s tea in the kettle if you want.”

“Thanks.” Harry mumbles, scrapping his stomach distractedly while he walks to the kettle. He smiles when he sees his favourite mug next to the generic ones that came with the house. Louis must have kept it in his backpack so he wouldn’t see it until now, knowing how attached he is to that mug and how this house would feel more like home to him with it. He fills it with steaming tea and goes to sit with his friends, adding a splash of milk to his drink. He looks at the phonebook, grin widening when he sees what page it’s open on. “Surfing lessons?”

Liam nods, excitement clear on his features. “Want to join us?”

“Yeah, better not.” Louis answers for Harry, squeezing the back of his neck as his lips curl into a smirk, eyes shining with mischief. “My little Bambi might crack his head open on a surfboard.”

Harry would be offended by Louis’ lack of faith in his surfing skills if it weren’t a very real possibility. He already has balance issues on unmoving ground and he guesses it can only be worse on water. He really doesn’t fancy a trip to the Italian ER; that would put such a damper to their holiday. He already has plans anyway, lazing about on the beach and getting a good tan.

“Yeah, think I’ll pass and just ogle you from the beach.”

~~~~~~~

“Do my back, please?”

Harry can’t help but wonder what he did to deserve such a treatment from karma. He always tries to be nice to everyone, even people who annoys or upset him. He really doesn’t deserve this torture. He takes the bottle of sunscreen with a heavy sigh and moves to straddle Louis’ lips, spurting some of the screen on his hands and rubbing it all over Louis’ back. And he tries to be quick and efficient, to not linger for longer than is strictly necessary. He fails, ends up massaging Louis’ back even after the sunscreen has been thoroughly applies to all of his skin. Louis doesn’t complain, though. He smiles even; Harry sees his lips curl at the corner.

~~~~~~~

_Louis was still clinging to Harry like an octopus, damp chest against Harry’s back, arms wrapped tightly around his middle and their legs tangled under the sheet. But Harry couldn’t stay in his hold. He had to move, to leave the room. He might have to leave the country, actually. He’d had sexy dreams before and he’d woken up with a hard-on more times than he could count, that was nothing new to him and it was normal for a fifteen year-old boy, according to Gemma at least. But none of his sexy dreams had involved a guy before. And they’d most definitely never involved his best friend either; let alone his best friend touching his dick. It was not normal, that part, the fantasies involving his male best friend. He groaned at the thought, quietly enough that it wouldn’t wake Louis up. The last thing he needed was for Louis to see what kind of predicament he was in, honestly. He buried his face deeper into the pillow, willing his erection away. And that was a bad idea. The fruity smell of Louis’ shampoo hit his nostrils, so nice and comforting. He wished he could stay in this bed forever, just like that, in Louis’ arms, his perfume the only thing he could smell. He mentally slapped himself for having those thoughts. Louis was his best friend. He was like his brother from another mother. Nothing more. He’d never be anything more and Harry knew that. And yet, these thoughts had become a recurring thing lately, so had the internal struggle that ensued every time and the strong desire to kiss Louis and all the confusion._

_“You thinking too loud.” Louis muttered, lips moving against Harry’s shoulders as he moved even closer to him. And that sure didn’t help with Harry’s little problem, which was not that little anymore. “Go to back to sleep.”_

_Harry wished it were that easy, really. He wished he could just go back to sleep and wake up with no feelings for his best friend._

~~~~~~~

The lady who teaches Louis, Liam and Andy how to surf is everything Louis looks for in a girl. She’s a pretty brunette, athletic and smart, funny too. And Harry just sits on the beach and watches them flirt every day, feels his heart break a little bit more every time he hears Louis’ laughter from afar or sees the way he looks at Lydia. He wishes Louis would look at him like that, even just once, but he knows better than to expect it. He knows Louis will never see him as anything more than a friend and he’s made his peace with it a long time ago but it doesn’t mean he won’t hurt when he’ll have to watch Louis be happy with somebody else. He must be a masochist. He just can’t think of another explanation to why he still pines after his best friend, why he doesn’t even try to move on from these feelings anymore. Louis finds a wave to ride, the first of the day, and paddles to it, stands on the surfboard when Lydia signals him to. He stays standing for a few seconds before falling off the wave. Harry holds his breath as he waits for him to emerge again, sighs in relief when he reappears with a grin on his face and holds his thumbs up in direction of the beach. Harry isn’t sure Louis can see him but he flashes the answering thumb-up anyway, just in case.

Niall chuckles next to him, writing Louis’ and Harry’s initials on each side of the heart he drew in the sand. He looks at Harry, more serious than Harry’s ever seen him. “You two are so oblivious my heart hurts for you.”

~~~~~~~

Harry stays at the house one afternoon, too tired and sunburnt to find the energy to sit on the beach and watch the man he loves flirt with someone else. He gets grumpy when he's tired, and likes to be left alone. But he does his best to be welcoming and agreeable when Dylan stops by in the middle of the afternoon, waking him from a nice nap. He offers tea and biscuits, like the nice man his mum raised him to be. Dylan declines, though, explains that he's on his way to town to meet up with his boyfriend and only dropped by to invite them to the neighbourhood weekly bonfire on the beach, a summer tradition. Harry might accept the invitation a little more eagerly than the situation calls for. He just loves bonfires so much, is the thing. He loves the friendly atmosphere and the grilled food and the never-ending flow of beer and how Louis gets all cuddly when he's drunk and happy. Dylan tells him they don't have to bring anything, privilege of being new in the neighbourhood, but his mum has always told him it was rude to show up anywhere empty handed so he spends the rest of the afternoon baking enough cupcakes to feed an army or two. He gives permission to Louis, Liam and Andy to have a couple of them when they come back from the beach, knowing how famished they get after surfing. He also hopes it'll put them in a nice enough mood so they won't scold him for accepting Dylan's invitation to the bonfire without consulting them. It works on Liam and Andy, not quite on Louis. He grumbles and complains and pouts until even Harry gets fed up with it and informs him that he really doesn't have to come with them if it's such a hassle, that they don't exactly need him to have fun. Louis' eyes go wide after he snapped at him and he guesses he'll have to sleep on the couch tonight. But Louis doesn't bite back or storm out of the room, he mumbles an apology and a promise to behave instead. 

And Louis does behave once they're at the bonfire. He stays close to Harry for the best part of the night, a hand on him at all times and a fake interest for his conversation with their neighbours. He only really leaves his side when he goes to fetch them drinks, and even then Harry can feel his eyes on him. They're not behaving much differently than when they're home, out with friends and family, but they're gushed over a lot more here. They're told how cute of a couple they are by too many strangers, are asked about their relationship and if they want to get married and have kids. And Louis lets it happen, plays along with a smile on his lips and a tight hold on Harry's hip. And it makes Harry feels queasy, if he's being honest, that Louis makes a joke out of the thing he wants more than anything. He knows there's no malice behind his best friend's behaviour, he's not trying to hurt him or anything, but he does anyway. So Harry decides to sleep on the couch that night. And the night after that too. And he only goes back to the room because his back hurts, really, is careful to stick to the edge of his half of the bed. 

~~~~~~~

"Let me guess, you're off to hang out with Dylan again." 

Harry freezes at the bitterness and hurt in Louis' voice, hand on the door handle as he was about to escape the house, and he feels his defence crack a little. He hates this, hates the weirdness that settled between Louis and him after the bonfire. And he knows he's to blame for it. He's the one who put all this space between them, who built defences he refuses to let down for Louis. He's the one who spends more time with a group of strangers than with his own friends in order to avoid Louis, who ignores the pain and disappointment on Louis' face every time he flinched away from him. And he knows it's up to him to fix things between them. But he doesn't know if he even wants to right now. 

He spins around slowly, careful to keep his face a mask of indifference as he catches sight of Louis, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, his face blank of emotions. "As a matter of fact, yeah." He replies as coldly as he can, fights the urge to run into Louis' arms and apology when he sees him recoil. "I'll see you tonight."

"Will you?" 

It's a defeated whisper, barely audible, but Harry hears it. He hears it as well as he hears his heart break. 

~~~~~~~

The creek is beautiful, a piece of Heaven on Earth, surrounded by high rocks, the water a deep blue. Harry's mesmerised, spends the most part of the morning with his camera attached to his hand. He captures a private moment between Dylan and Stefan on camera, their gazes locked together, their faces all soft and fond as they float in the water, Dylan's arms tightly wrapped around Stefan's neck. And Harry wants that. He wants someone to look at him like that, to hold him like that, wants someone to love him like that. He wants Louis to love him like that. It's nothing new, really. He's been feeling this way for seven years, if not more. What's new, however, is this fear that their friendship can't survive his feelings. He always thought he could just live with them. He thought he'd be able to watch Louis fall in love and get married and have a family of his own without it feeling like the end of the world. He thought he was strong enough to keep Louis in his life while never having him the way he wants to.  But he was wrong, he realises it now. He can't spend his life pining for a man who will never want him, who will never love him. And maybe he just can't have it halfway either, maybe it has to be a all or nothing kind of deal. Maybe he has to let go of Louis, no matter how much it hurts him, no matter how much it hurts Louis.

"Hey Haz, we'll do a last round up there, want to try?" 

Louis would disapprove, would make a joke about Harry literally falling to his death or something. And Harry would let him convinced him that he doesn't want to try even if he really wants to. "Yeah, I want to try." He says and follows them to the top of the rock. 

~~~~~~~

There's something beeping when Harry comes to, which seems to be in sync with his heartbeat somehow. There's also an overwhelming smell of antiseptic and cleaning products. And his head hurts something fierce, which is strange since he hasn't gotten remotely drunk in a few days. He might have forgotten, though. It would explain why his last memory is jumping off a cliff. He doesn't even remember leaving the creek. He doesn't remember ever hitting the water for that matter. And it's all a bit alarming. But it seems he's unable to panic at the moment, strangely enough.

"Do you think he can hear us?" Louis asks softly, voice wavering a little. He sounds distressed. Harry wants to reach out for him, pull him close and tell him everything will be okay. He tries to move but remains still, tries to open his eyes but can't. The panic rises now, his heart beats faster and the beeping speeds up too. He feels lips pressing against the back of his hand, a bit chapped and dry against his skin. Louis' lips, he reckons. And it calms him down somehow.

"I don't know." Liam replies, quiet and careful, like he's afraid the words might break Louis. "But I think it's worth a try." 

Louis hums quietly, doesn't say anything else. He slips his fingers in the space between Harry's and squeezes. Harry wants to squeeze back, tries and fails. The annoying beeping is the only sound in the room for a while, almost becomes lulling after a moment. Shuffling sounds break the somewhat silence of the room eventually, followed by Niall's voice. 

"You want anything from the cafeteria?"

He sounds exhausted. And Harry hates this, hates the darkness he's in right now, both literally and metaphorically. He wants to know where he is, wants to know what's happening. He wants to be able to react to what's going on around him. This situation is proper scary movie material, honestly. He hears footsteps, a creak and a door closing. And the beeps are the only noises he can hear again. The mattress dips, Louis climbing on the bed and laying next to Harry. He's warm against Harry's side, comfortable.

"Wake up, please." Louis whispers, lips pressed against Harry's chest. Droplets of water hit his skin, one after the other. Tears, he realises when Louis sniffles. "You have to wake up, Harry. You just... You just have to, okay? You can't leave me. You're not allowed to leave me."

There's nothing Harry wants more than to wrap his arms around Louis, hug him close and promise to never leave him. But he still can't move and it frustrates him to no end. It frustrates him to not be able to comfort his best friend, even more so since he's upset because of him and he can't do anything about it. 

"I love you, Harry. I've been in love with you since before I knew what love was. I just... I need you, okay? I love you and I need you and you just... You can't... Not without knowing, okay?" Louis sobs into the crook of Harry's neck, body shaking against Harry's. "I don't know how to live my life without you, Harry. I don't want to... I can't... I just can't... And you have to wake up now. You just have to wake up." 

Harry finally manages to move his arm, not by much, more of a twitch than anything, but it's more than he was able to do just five minute ago. It's a start, if nothing else. And it's encouraging. So he tries again, wiggles his fingers this time, brushes them against Louis' back. Louis bolts at the contact, takes the warmth of his body away from Harry. 

"Harry?" He calls shakily, hand cupping Harry's cheek, thumb tracing the thin skin under his eye. "You hear me, Haz?" 

Harry's eyes flutter open slowly, not for long, just enough time to get a glimpse of Louis' face, red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks. He's too weak to open them again but he manages to squeeze Louis' hand when he slips it in his. The sound of Louis' happy chuckles take over the beeping of the heart monitor.

~~~~~~~

Harry slipped when he was hiking to the top of the cliff and literally cracked his skull open on his way down. He was brought to the hospital by helicopter and put in a medically induced coma to allow his swollen brain to recover from a severe concussion. It was five days ago.

~~~~~~~

Harry has to take some tests to evaluate the extent of the damages on his brain. He sleeps most of the days but still has a permanent headache He's forgotten things, random memories, old and new. He gets confused easily, can't always find the words to say what he wants to. Everyone tells him he's lucky. And well, he's still alive so he guesses they're not wrong. Louis barely leaves his side, only goes to the hotel to shower and change when Liam forces him to. And Niall tells Harry that Louis refused to leave the hospital when he was unconscious, fought with the nurses and everything, all because he didn’t want Harry to wake up alone.

He gets released from the hospital after another four days, once the doctors are sure he won't suffer from complications. He can’t go home just yet, though, has to wait for his concussion to heal completely before he can travel. Dylan insists he stays in his apartment in Cagliari, since he has no tenants at the moment and feels responsible for what happened to him at the creek. And Harry can’t really afford a hotel so he accepts easily. Liam and Niall fly back to London the next day while Louis decides to stay for as long as Harry’s stuck in Sardinia. And Harry knows he should at least try to convince him to go back home but he still feels most out of it and really doesn’t want to be alone right now. So he waits in the next room while Louis calls the school and explains why he won’t be able to start teaching at the beginning of term. And he can’t say if Louis will still have a job when they finally go back.

~~~~~~~

“Did you mean it?” Harry asks, voice quivering with uncertainty and fear. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Louis takes it back. He looks at Louis but only sees the outline of his face in the darkness of the room. He can’t even tell if his eyes are still open or not, if he’s still awake or not. “What you said at the hospital. Did you mean it?”

“I said a lot of things at the hospital, Curly.”

“You’re in love with me.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even turn his head, just keeps staring at the ceiling. Harry wishes he could see him right now, wishes he could see his face, the details on his features. He wishes he could see him so he could tell what he’s thinking, where this conversation is going. But he can’t see him and can only wait for him to put him out of his misery.

“Yeah. I am, yeah.” Louis exhales shakily, the sound of it loud in the otherwise silent room.

And Harry breathes again, just like that. “Me too, so in love with you, always.” He whispers, the corners of his lips curling into a smile.

He can’t tell who moved first but they’re much closer now, their breaths mingling together in the little space left between them. He looks down at Louis’ lips, takes in the thin line they form. He wants to kiss him, more than he ever did before. So he does. He closes the gap between them, presses his lips to Louis’. They’re softer than he imagined, still chapped. They feel nice on his mouth, perfect even. Louis’ hand moves up to cup his cheek, his lips moving against his slowly, carefully. It’s electrifying. Harry wants more. He wants everything. But neither of them tries to deepen the kiss. They’re quite happy with just the soft press of their lips against each other for now.

Louis breaks the kiss eventually, pecks the tip of Harry’s nose and chuckles when he wrinkles it in reaction. “We should talk about this.” 

And he’s right, of course. Harry knows he’s right. They have a lot to talk about, a lot to figure out. But his headache is back full force and all he wants to do right now is sleep. “And we will but not tonight. Tomorrow. Please?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

Harry can’t resist kissing Louis again, smiles against his mouth and feels Louis do the same. He turns on his side once they’re done, pulls Louis’ arm around his middle and twines their fingers together on top of his stomach. He’s still smiling when he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for the rushed ending and lack of smut, I ran out of time to write it. But as I said, I'm open to the idea of writing a follow-up if you want it and there will be smut in it xD
> 
> \--------------
> 
> So the big thing happening during the coma-scene is, obviously, Louis telling Harry he loves him. I'll put his words here for those of you who couldn't read the scene.
> 
> "Wake up, please." Louis whispers, lips pressed against Harry's chest. Droplets of water hit his skin, one after the other. Tears, he realises when Louis sniffles. "You have to wake up, Harry. You just... You just have to, okay? You can't leave me. You're not allowed to leave me."
> 
> "I love you, Harry. I've been in love with you since before I knew what love was. I just... I need you, okay? I love you and I need you and you just... You can't... Not without knowing, okay?" Louis sobs into the crook of Harry's neck, body shaking against Harry's. "I don't know how to live my life without you, Harry. I don't want to... I can't... I just can't... And you have to wake up now. You just have to wake up."


End file.
